


Till the End of the Line...

by Digitalwave



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Feels, M/M, Other, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1481197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Digitalwave/pseuds/Digitalwave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Any risk was worth it if it meant saving a friend.</p>
<p>Note: This story is based on this <a href="http://xaviiers.tumblr.com/post/82839461501/till-the-end-of-the-line-right-pup"><b>amazing artwork</b></a>. It's spoilery so you might want to wait until you've read it to click.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till the End of the Line...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters in this story remain the property of themselves and their related production companies. None of the pretties belong to me, I'm only borrowing them.

Bucky felt the cold settle into his bones, the whisper of the wind winding its cold fingers through every threadbare spot of the old jacket he wore. He'd found it in the discard bin of a Salvation Army, too worn even for most of their clientele. Hell, he didn't care, it mostly fit, kept out the worst of the rain that never seemed to end 'round here. Plus, it was his, god damn it! It was the first thing he could remember that he'd chosen for himself in way too fucking long.

The soft whimper that ghosted up from the still form lying in his lap brought him out of his head and the dark thoughts clouding it. His fingers moved through the gold strands under his hand, his voice quiet, saying the same words he'd used more than once tonight.

"It'll be okay, just sleep, I'll get us outta here come morning. Nothing's gonna hurt you, not anymore, I promise." Like before, the tone seemed to help as much as the words as the trembling lessened, the too tight muscles under his hand relaxing again into sleep. 

He was so damned tired, maybe he could sleep a little, too. They were as protected as he could make them. All he could do was wait and see if the help he'd taken a chance on would come, and, if they did, if they'd really help his friend. Sighing he let his head fall back against the cold concrete of the wall behind him. A tattered, wispy remnant of a prayer curled through his brain as his thoughts slowed. Maybe tonight would be different, maybe tonight the damned dreams wouldn't come.

The feeling of being watched brought Bucky up from sleep, he cursed himself for letting his guard down even as his body tensed, ready for whatever new hell was about to be unleashed upon them. He saw the man crouched down beside them, hands up, no weapons in sight. His voice when he spoke was hushed.

"Hey, hey, easy! I'm not here for trouble, you called me, remember?" Bucky saw his eyes flicker to his fallen friend. "He looks bad, he been sick long?"

"Naw, it started about a week ago. We been living rough and I think it's just caught up to him, you know?" His heart hammered against the walls of his chest. He forced his body to relax, resisted the urge to run, get away at any cost. He needed the help this stranger offered, he wouldn't let his friend die because he was too fucking proud to ask.

"I've seen your damned ads in the classified section of the newspapers in every city we've passed through, saying to call, saying you'd help." Bucky forced himself to look up, meet the other man's eyes. "This is me asking, please, I don't... He's gonna die without some help..."

The man, Steve, in the ads he'd said his name was Steve, reached out, gently gathered Dodger into his arms and stood up in one fluid motion. Bucky was surprised as hell that something in him told him it was okay to let him, that this man wouldn't hurt either of them, no matter what.

Steve smiled, turning his head a little toward the end of the ally they'd been hidden in. "Come on, Buck, I've got a truck parked close by. Let's get this guy to the doc and then we'll figure things out from there, okay?"

Standing himself he gathered whatever dignity he still had in him, squared his shoulders and followed. One last mission to get through, get Dodger help, make sure that he's okay. He owed it to his friend who'd stood by him through all the fear and nightmares these last months on the road.

As they stepped out from the dank alley, back into the street, a shaft of early morning sun hit the man as he eased Bucky's dog into the backseat of the dusty Ford truck waiting there, rimming them both in burnished gold for just an instant. Bucky's eyes widened as he shuffled into the truck after them.

The man kept talking, his soft voice wrapped around Bucky, warmed him as much as the heat that blasted out from the truck's heater. Bucky slumped against the door, listening. Now he knew why the dark gold fur of his dog had always seemed so familiar.

He closed his eyes, let sleep take him. One last thought chased him down into a darkness that didn't seem as black as it had before. He could rest. He knew, deep in his bones, that they were safe now. Both of them were finally going home.

fin


End file.
